


Lost in Translation

by Phoenixfeather



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Castiel Tries, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel in the Bunker, Dean Tries, Episode Related, Episode: s08e17 Goodbye Stranger, Episode: s12e12 Stuck In The Middle (With You), Episode: s12e19 The Future, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Parallel Structure, Pining Castiel, Pining Dean, Season/Series 12, Stream of Consciousness, destiel through the seasons, they don't do that in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10807752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenixfeather/pseuds/Phoenixfeather
Summary: Dean and Castiel each wonder about the nature of their relationship and why the other will not understand what they are trying to communicate. (12x19 coda)





	Lost in Translation

**Author's Note:**

> A small coda for 12x19 that turned into more of a reflection on destiel as a whole. 
> 
> The quoted song is "All this and heaven too" by Florence and the Machine. Honestly, go listen to it. It's like it was written for destiel (especially Cas' side of it).
> 
> Not beta read.

And the heart is hard to translate

It has a language of its own

It talks in tongues and quiet sighs

And in prayers and proclamations

In the grand deeds of great men

and the smallest of gestures

In short, shallow gasps

Dean had put in so much effort to make Cas understand.

It had taken him some time to realize it, but eventually he had begun to understand that when it came to Castiel, his usual methods of showing affection wouldn't cut it. Hell, it had taken him long enough to grasp the fact that affection was something that Cas craved at all.

In the early days, it had felt disrespectful to the point of blasphemy to presume that the angel might see anything more in him than a valued ally in a losing battle.

He had been keenly aware back then that Cas was a vast whirling hurricane of light and sound somehow contained in a body of flesh and blood. His presence had made the air crack with electricity and Dean had felt the urge to move into his orbit and run away at the same time.

Of course, he had had no qualms to insult Cas to his face. In fact, it had come naturally. He wasn't afraid of death by angel smiting now, and he hadn't been afraid of death by angel smiting then.

No, what had made Dean quiver in his shoes was the passion in the angel's voice as he had slammed him into a wall.

“I gave everything for you! And this is what you give to me?”

It hadn't made sense to him. Why would a creature such as Cas - ancient, unknowable - be swayed by his opinion?

It had been easier to figure out why Cas had stuck with him. After all, the angel was right. When he had rebelled against his brethren, he had lost everything. Alone, hunted and finding himself on the losing side of a war for the fate of the world, it only made sense for him to turn to the only people who would fight alongside him.

Yet, the apocalypse had come and passed, the earth was still spinning and Dean had been left alone, all his fears confirmed. Cas had left him as soon as their mission was completed. It had been easy to bury his broken heart and humiliation under the mountain that had been his grief for Sam.

Dean had never been the praying type, but to Cas he had prayed. Quietly and only when he was alone, during his time with Lisa, flippantly when Sam had been with him, desperately when he had hacked and sliced his way through Purgatory to find the angel and quietly, tenderly when Sam had chosen to sacrifice himself again and all Dean wanted was the only one who could bear the burden with him.

Now, he didn't pray anymore.

It had taken Cas falling completely - the hurricane, the electricity and the pull disappearing, leaving only flesh and blood and Cas behind - for Dean to realise his error.

Because nothing much had changed. Sure, Cas had been softer and had needed to fulfill certain human needs. He had needed a job to keep himself fed, a place to sleep and showers to keep himself clean.

But had had still been earnest, steadfast, stubborn Cas and if Dean had been thrown off balance by his sudden vulnerability, the feeling had been dwarfed by his relief that they were finally at eye level.

The hunter still felt guilty sometimes at what had happened in the motel shower in Redford. After he had held himself back for years - through the steady application of cold showers and thoughts of Bobby Singer naked - he had finally let his imagination linger on Cas’ chapt lips and his elegant fingers as he wrapped his hands around his own hardness and brought himself to completion. He had gasped Cas’ name to an empty room and wished for nothing more than to hear his own name called back to him. Afterwards he had quickly washed his hair and body and driven back to the bunker, his heart aching at the thought of the look of utter betrayal on his friend’s face when Dean had told him to leave the bunker. Yet in spite of his guilt, there hadn't been a week since then that he had not repeated the action, even though Cas had eventually returned to his angelic self, albeit slowly and still not quite.

And suddenly it had been obvious that Cas had never just been whirling energy and angelic power, Dean had just been too intimidated to see it. The softness had lingered and with it the realisation that Cas had always longed for affection, had, ever since the angels abandoned him, wanted a family to call his own.

So that was what Dean had offered, once the mark had been lifted and his worry and sense of responsibility had returned with such force that it had nearly shattered him. For with it came the crippling guilt. Not just for the literal blows Dean had delivered to Cas - while the angel had made no move to fight back, even though he could have taken Dean in a fight - but also for all the verbal blows he had often hurled at Cas without thinking, before the angel had become human.

So he had tried to reign himself in, swallow the hurt over being abandoned again and again and the confusion he felt whenever Cas fluttered off to one of his missions or threw himself at danger, the self-sacrificing bastard.

Dean knew he would never be enough, after all he never had been. John hadn’t stayed for his sake, Sam hadn’t, so why the hell would Cas? But he knew Cas wanted a family, so he made damn sure, he knew he had one with them.

It had been shortly after they had come back from prison and sure, Dean had been pissed at Cas, but he had also heard Ishim’s words - “No wings, no home, just a ratty old coat and two badly trained monkeys.” - and he realised that maybe, he hadn’t done enough to convey to Cas that he was more than a guest in the bunker. So he had tucked at Cas’ coat sleeve and let him wordlessly to room 15.

Cas had looked around it in obvious bafflement.

“Why did you take me here, Dean? Is something the matter with this room?”

“It’s yours if you want it.”

It had taken several seconds for Cas’ expression to change. His brow had smoothed, the permanent worry lines on his face softening as he had taken in the space that he could now call his own.

“You know I don’t need to sleep.”

Dean had wanted to pull his hair out in frustration. Cas still wasn’t getting it.

“It’s not … it’s not about that. You just - you can go in here and shut the door when y’need a moment alone, get away from us annoying humans.” - ‘Maybe then you won’t always leave me to go off on your own’, he had wanted to add, but the words had never made it past the lump in his throat.

Instead he had watched the angel as he went further inside. For a moment, Cas had seemed at a loss about what to do, hovering in the center and very slowly turning on his heels, as if wanting to take in every detail. Then, very slowly and deliberately, he had taken off his coat and draped it over the foot end of the bed.

“Right now, I don’t want to get away from you annoying humans.”

Dean had barked a laugh at that and Cas had ducked his head, half hiding the lopsided smile that had spread over his face, and Dean’s insides had felt ready to burst with affection.

“Let’s go watch some Game of Thrones then. You even got a chance to start season 6 yet?”

They had shared an evening, just the two of them. For once, Cas had only been in his slacks and shirt (after a little coaxing from Dean to get rid of the suit jacket, too) and Dean had savored every time their shoulders had touched with two less layers than he was used to.

Still, he shouldn’t have hoped that it would last. Only the next day, Cas had left again, wearing his coat once more and leaving Dean to wonder why he couldn’t do anything that would keep Cas by his side.

In true Castiel fashion, the angel had only reemerged when they had needed his help during a hunt and in true Winchester fashion, had promptly been screwed over for it.

Dean had not known at all how to respond to a deathbed love confession, not least because a small and traitorous flower of hope was blooming in his chest that maybe, just maybe, Cas first, singular “I love you” was directed at him.

No, he was not able to respond to it, since there would always be the possibility that he slipped and put more meaning into the words than Cas had meant to be there.

Another problem though, he could fix.

“You are family, Cas. And we don’t leave family behind.”

Cas eyes had welled with tears at his words and Dean had known that they were born from the shadows of at least a dozen moments like this. Cas walking into a building with sigils carved into his chest, the angel standing in a circle of holy fire as Dean walked away, an unresponsive Castiel in hospital scrubs being left alone with a demon in a psychiatric hospital and worst of all, the crestfallen look on his face as Dean had sent him away at his most vulnerable.

It had almost broken Dean, to realise that his first chance to do it right, might be his last chance as well.

Yet, by some miracle, they had all walked out of that barn again. Cas had been uncharacteristically silent, even by his standards. When they had reached the bunker he had fled the garage without a word and locked himself into his room.

Dean hadn’t gotten any sleep that night, knowing that Cas was sitting awake as well, probably in some existential crisis. Instead he had paced the kitchen, then the war room, then the corridor that led to their rooms, debating himself what he could do.

A thought had been nagging him for weeks now, years really. He had first had the idea when Cas had been human and working at the Gas ‘n Sip and Dean had been sure that one day, when Sam was all healed up and Gadreel had left, Cas would come back and live with them. And Dean had thought that once that happened, he would need to apologize. So, he had sat down, made a list of the Zeppelin’ songs that had started to remind him of Cas a little more with each passing day, and recorded them all on a tape.

He had never had the chance to give it to Cas, since the man became an angel again and Dean gave up any hope he had ever had for his feeling to be reciprocated.

Yet, Cas had obviously needed reassurance and Dean had felt sure he wouldn’t understand the double entendre of giving someone a mixtape anyway.

Castiel didn’t need to know that it was his „I love you, too.“

So, at 4 am, he had fetched it from the bottom of his bedside drawer and walked over to Cas’ room.

“Hey, you still in there?”, he had asked needlessly.

It had taken Cas over two minutes to answer and Dean had had to exercise all of his very short patience to not just pick the lock and go in anyway. But he had told Cas that his room was his own space to command and he wasn’t going to break his trust.

When the angel had finally opened the door, he had bowed his head so far down that Dean hadn’t even been able to make out his expression, much less look him in the eyes.

“What do you need, Dean?”, Cas had asked flatly and Dean had felt his resolve strengthen so much that it had allowed him to reach up with his hand and gently lift Cas’s chin until he looked at him.

“I don’t need anything. I actually wanted to give you something.”

He had reached into his pocket and taken out the mixtape. Cas had only stared at it blankly and for a moment Dean had found himself wondering if Cas didn’t even know what a cassette was.

“For you truck”, Dean had said a little gruffly as the silence had stretched out. “So you can listen to some music.”

“I … thank you, Dean. That’s very kind.”

Dean had been feeling increasingly uncomfortable. Usually, Castiel was someone he found it easy to just be in each other’s presence without saying a word, but in that moment, Dean had felt as if a rift had opened between them and the bridges they were trying to build to get to each other would never meet in the middle.

Cas had turned away and closed the door without another word and Dean had been stuck between disappointment and confusion, wondering if this had just been the first time Cas had ever received a gift.

Now, Dean had his answer. Cas wouldn’t have tried to return the tape if he had known its significance, would he?

It still felt like Castiel had just rejected all his efforts. Despite everything, the angel still seemed to think that he had to face the world alone.

After all, Dean had done his utmost to show Cas he loved him.

Why then did Cas still not understand?

 

* * *

 

Castiel had put in so much effort to make Dean understand.

In the beginning, he hadn't even been able to put a name to the strange force that made him gravitate towards Dean Winchester whenever they were in each other’s presence. Before the Righteous Man he had only ever talked to a handful of humans and each time he had, they had been so intimidated by him that he had never had to ask twice for them to fulfill his bidding.

Yet, the man Castiel himself had saved from Hell had been different. Dean had always met his gaze with a defiance that bordered on being disrespectful. Yet for some reason Castiel had never felt insulted and even though it defied everything he had ever learned about humans, it hadn't taken long for him to view Dean as his equal, as infuriating and confusing as he sometimes was. Still, his friend was only human and as such, fragile. Castiel became all too aware of the fact that their relationship would always be asymmetrical and he took on the role of Dean’s protector and guardian.

The repercussions of his behavior had been swift and brutal. Castiel didn't remember any details of the corrections Naomi had made him suffer through besides the last one, but now that he knew of her methods, he could imagine what had been done to him.

In retrospect, it was a good thing that it had taken Castiel such a long time to realize that he was falling in love with the human, otherwise he would not have survived his encounters with Naomi.

He hadn't known back then, why it was that suddenly the most important aspect of all his endeavors was to keep Dean Winchester save. It had almost ruined his plans to stop Raphael, had led to millions of deaths and the most horrible year of Sam Winchester’s life. Yet the worst Castiel had ever felt in his entire existence was when he stood in a circle of holy fire, imploring Dean to understand and having the man turn his back on him.

It had been the first in a long list of failures. Back then Castiel had still believed himself to be more capable, more efficient than he had turned out to be. Heaven and the Winchesters, the two groups he cared most about, had paid the price. It had torn something in Castiel that he had yet to find out how to fix.

For the first time, he would have gladly taken any punishment Naomi bestowed upon him. Yet, as cruel irony would have it, it had once again been Dean who suffered for his mistakes. The image of the hundreds of Deans he had slayed was still fresh in front of his eyes but those had only been copies. It was nothing compared to the feeling of the real Dean's bones breaking on impact with his fist and his blood on Castiel's hands.

The battle between Castiel’s and Naomi’s will in his own mind had been won only when Dean had uttered his last desperate plea. “We need you. I need you.”  
His mortal body had shown no outward signs that anything remarkable had happened, but Castiel's true form had risen, stretched wider than it had in millennia and the shackles Naomi had put on him had fallen away.

Yet, Castiel had not lied when he had told Dean that he didn't know what had been the cause of this.

He had only begun to understand after Metatron had cut out his grace. His months as a human hadn't just been difficult because he had been alone and homeless. The biggest challenge had been that suddenly, Castiel's whole being had been contained in a feeble body that was susceptible to react to the smallest input with an output of raging chemicals and rapidly firing neurons.

Dean's presence had been torture and comfort at once. Castiel had experienced his heart racing before - fear that send adrenaline to course through his brain and blood to roar through his veins had been one of the least pleasant emotions he had felt as a human - but as Dean stood over him, tall and proud, after rescuing him from the reaper, he felt his heart flutter erratically in a way it had never done before.

For a blessed few hours, he had been hopeful that his life as a human could be a good one and that if Dean and Sam taught him how to hunt, he could even find a mission again.

Until Castiel had been sent away and had learned what crushing hopelessness and loneliness felt like as a human.

Yet, amidst the despair and heartbreak, Castiel had felt more free than he ever had in his entire existence. Dean had sent him away, had refused his friendship and his services. Castiel had failed his mission as an angel in any way imaginable. At the Gas ‘n Sip, none of that had mattered. The work had been simple and he even hadn't earned enough to be able to afford the rent for an apartment, but the routine of his work schedule had steadied Castiel whenever a new sensation or an unfamiliar emotion had threatened to throw him off balance. He had even felt a sense of accomplishment whenever Nora had praised him for keeping the shop in order.

He should have known that Dean Winchester would once again barge into his life to turn it upside down.

It had hurt to see the hunter, even though Castiel had wished for it many times during the long and cold nights he had spent in the storeroom.

All Castiel had wanted before, or so he thought, was to help his friend, be his guardian and savior and earn his friendship through that. Yet, for the first time, Castiel had desired … something. What it was, he had only found out later, after Dean had left once more.

He had lain awake longer than during normal nights. It had always taken him several hours to fall asleep on the hard-concrete floor, but that night, it hadn't been nightmares of Naomi and leviathan that had kept him from sleep. It had been thoughts of Dean.

Castiel had felt physically aroused before and yet, he hadn’t recognized the feeling at first, as he thought of Dean and blood started to flow to his abdomen. His hips had started grinding into the floor without his prompting and he had found himself panting and gasping Dean’s name as he imagined the hunter's strong capable hands on his body. He had closed his eyes and seen Dean's bright green irises staring into his and before he knew what was happening, he had come inside his sleeping back.

Later, Castiel had felt shame curse through his body like hot molten lava, burning him up. It had been utterly selfish of him to think of Dean in such a way. He hadn't deserved the pleasure he had brought himself at the thought of his friend. Never again would he abuse the hunter’s trust in such a way.

Castiel had kept that promise. It hadn’t taken much self-restraint after he had gotten his grace back and his emotions were once again shifts in his true form instead of volatile hormones.

Yet he knew now, and that knowledge could not be unlearned. The forbidden fruit had been eaten long ago. Suddenly, his own actions had taken on a whole new meaning.

He loved Dean Winchester.

The knowledge had made things easier and more difficult at the same time. Once more, he could focus all his energy on keeping the hunter safe and being his guardian. Yet, in his weaker moments, he now found himself desiring more - a place by Dean’s side, a home in the bunker, an intimate relationship he knew he did not deserve.

He tried not to dwell on these wishes. Dean would never desire him in such a way and after all, Castiel had only gotten less useful as the years progressed. He had failed as the Winchester’s guardian, why would they - why would Dean - ever consider him worthy of love?

In a way, dying had felt like a relieve. The wound inflicted on him by the Spear of Michael had caused him unbelievable agony. It had clawed at his true form and turned his body’s intestines to black acid, but it had been a slow death. It had allowed Castiel to shed the burden of his responsibilities and his guilt and even though he had felt bile rise in his throat it had felt like being able to breath freely for the first time in years.

He had used the word, had uttered the dreaded, heavy phrase and only the knowledge of his impending death had given him the courage.

And once again, Castiel had lived.

By now he really was sure it was a punishment, for it had allowed him to walk out of that barn with the knowledge that even on the brink of death his confession of love would only ever be met with an assurance that he was family to Dean.

Castiel had cursed his time as a human for allowing him to identify all the emotions that were coursing through him - hopelessness, rejection and a crushing sense of humiliation.

Castiel hadn’t been able to speak another word that night. He had simply gone to his room and shut the door behind him. He hated himself for the bitterness he had felt in that moment, that while Dean had given him a room in the bunker - and therefore a place in his family - he would never hold the special place in the hunter’s heart that Dean held in his.

Dean had come by later that night to give him a cassette on which he had recorded some music by one of his favorite Rock bands. It had sent a flutter of warmth through Castiel that Dean would think of him after such a night. Maybe the hunter had realized once more how dangerous their lives were and decided that he wanted to share some of his interests with Castiel while he still could.

Castiel had a hard time appreciating it that night, but he did listen to the music in his truck as he drove to the playground that held the portal to Heaven.

It reminded him of his purpose and strengthened his will to keep Dean and Sam save. Family meant duty and his own wishes were irrelevant if he could assure that they were happy. Castiel had understood once and for all that he had nothing to offer to Dean besides that.

After all, Castiel had done his utmost to tell Dean that he loved him.

Why then did Dean still not understand?

And I would give all this and heaven too

I would give it all if only for a moment

That I could just understand the meaning of the word you see

'Cause I've been scrawling it forever, but it never makes sense to me at all

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually not that happy with how this turned out. I started with the title and structure and this idea in my head and then it didn't work out the way I wanted it to. But I'm having a super stressful week and also a multi chapter case fic to work on so this will stay as it is. 
> 
> Still, constructive criticism would be awesome. Or a small note to tell me whether you liked it or not.  
> Kudos are always awesome! ;)
> 
> Or say hi on tumblr: http://cas-essence.tumblr.com/


End file.
